SCHLORFF e@ca.on.simcoe_county.nottawasaga.collingwood.the_connection 2003-07-18 published
category e is education election employment athletics
Collingwood man killed in Muskoka mishap
Angela McEWEN,
ConnectionStaffWriter, page 1
An early-morning boating excursion on Lake Joseph last weekend
ended in tragedy for a Collingwood family, and heartache for
a second one.
Peter CROMPTON, 27, is dead after a boating collision on July
13, at 5: 30 a.m.
"The one boat operated by (one Toronto man) was stationary in
the water, and the second boat operated by (another Toronto man),
hit the back end and landed on top of the boat," said Const.
Kristine DAWSON, community services officer with the West Parry
Sound Ontario Provincial Police.
"The three people who were injured were sitting in the back of
the boat."
CROMPTON was pronounced dead at the scene. Clay
DOLAN, 24, also
from Collingwood, suffered serious injuries and was airlifted
to Sunnybrook Hospital in Toronto.
His brother, Josh, 32, from Toronto, was treated for minor injuries
at the West Parry Sound Health Centre.
On Wednesday afternoon, officials at Sunnybrook listed the younger
DOLAN's condition as fair.
The first boat was carrying eight people, and the second boat
had five people in it. The maximum number of people allowed in
a boat depends on the size of the vessel, said
DAWSON.
After an investigation, police charged the 22-year-old driver
of the second boat with impaired driving causing death, impaired
driving causing bodily harm, driving with a blood alcohol level
over 80 mg, criminal negligence causing death, criminal negligence
causing bodily harm and careless boating.
A court date is set for October 2.
Drinking and operating a water vessel is as dangerous as operating
a motor vehicle on a roadway or snowmobile trail. Approximately
25 to 40 per cent of boating accidents involve alcohol according
to Staff Sgt. Brad
SCHLORFF, with general headquarters in Orillia.
"In Ontario this year, on average, about 50 people will get killed
in boating fatalities," said
SCHLORFF "(
But) it's not that common
that a boat collides with another."
Usually boats end up hitting docks or something along the shoreline,
he said. Out of the 50 people who die annually, about 42 are
drownings and the rest are accidents involving boat collisions,
said SCHLORFF.
"First of all, (a person's) balance is affected, and when you
fall down in your boat, you fall overboard and then run the risk
of drowning," said
SCHLORFF. "
You're not in a stable platform."
For the past 20 years, the public has been inundated with warnings
about the hazards of drinking and operating a boat, he added.
The message, apparently, is still not getting through to a significant
number of people.
CROMPTON is a graduate of Collingwood's National Ski Academy
and was a member of the Ontario Alpine Ski Team. He competed
in the World University Games, the U.S.A. Junior Championships
and the Nor-Am Race Series, both nationally and internationally.
The visitation for
CROMPTON was held at Fawcett's Funeral Home
Collingwood chapel on Wednesday evening, and the funeral took
place Thursday afternoon at Trinity United Church.

SCHMIDT e@ca.on.grey_county.owen_sound.the_sun_times 2004-12-28 published
category e is education election employment athletics
From cop to the cloth
Sun Times Staff, Page A1
"I hope I'm as patient as I've ever been," says Knox United Church
minister Ralph
SCHMIDT, who left the police force after an on-the-job injury.
"But I may have a different sense of reality than they would
expect me to have.
"As a police officer you also come to learn that there are so
many shades of grey to every situation that you enter in to.
Very few are black and white." Sun Times reporter Scott
DUNN
talked to the local minister who's also worked as an Owen Sound
police officer.
SCHMIDT says the two roles have many similarities, such as learning
to live with the unexpected.
"There is no way to plan a shift in policing," he said.
"Absolutely no way. Its 85 per cent routine, 10 per cent clerical
and five per cent sheer terror. And you just never know when
the bell tolls, when the call comes in."
[See "Reverend Redux", Page B1 for the rest of the interview]

SCHMIDT e@ca.on.grey_county.owen_sound.the_sun_times 2004-12-28 published
category e is education election employment athletics
Reverend Redux
The life of a minister might seem worlds away from that of a
police officer but the two can complement each other, former
city police constable and returned reverend Ralph
SCHMIDT tells
Scott DUNN.
Page B1
Life has come full circle for Reverend Ralph
SCHMIDT, the former
police constable who's traded in his Criminal Code for a Holy
Bible. SCHMIDT was an ordained minister when he was hired as
a constable with the Owen Sound police 14 years ago at age 40.
The Kitchener police force turned him down in his early 20s because
he wore glasses.
He'd worked as a minister in Nova Scotia for five years before
experiencing a crisis of faith when his newborn son died. He
ministered a few more years but left the field because he didn't
always believe what he needed to, he said.
Policing let him intervene to help in people's lives earlier
than when a minister is usually called to help. That appealed
to him.
"It was that kind of wish, to serve more actively, that was one
of the motivators of going into the police."
But a spinal injury he suffered while struggling with a suspect
two years ago led to early retirement and a renewed call to the
ministry, which began at Knox United Church in August, he said
in a recent interview.
SCHMIDT sat wearing a cleric's shirt and white collar in one
of the pews that radiate in semicircular rows from the front
of the church. Facing him were the magnificent organ pipes which
span the entire church front. To his right high above, stained
glass windows shone behind balcony seats.
The burnished oak panelling, the carved wooden details below
of the balcony railing, the fine acoustics of the 700-plus seats
in the church built in the 1880s all present a rich setting in
which to worship, he noted proudly.
The jobs of police and minister seem quite different but they're
a lot alike too.
Every police shift began with a briefing by the shift supervisor,
where the day's priorities and concerns were shared. At Knox,
church staff meet weekly to do something similar.
"As a police officer, you learn to live with the unexpected.
There is no way to plan a shift in policing. Absolutely no way.
It's 85 per cent routine, 10 per cent clerical and five per cent
sheer terror. And you just never know when the bell tolls, when
the call comes in.
SCHMIDT has wrestled his share of drunks outside the downtown
bars. He has walked into dark buildings not knowing for sure
whether an assailant might be lurking around the next corner.
He's been dispatched to car crashes.
"The safety of all parties involved, all of those kinds of things
go through your mind as you activate the siren and lights and
head down to the scene."
A minister's tithe is spent similarly, with the same five per
cent of terror for which you can never fully prepare.
"In other words, the phone rings and you never know if it's going
to be somebody saying 'Could we sing number so-and-so on Sunday
'cause I really like it?' or it's going to be someone saying
'We just found my dad dead and we need you here at the house
right away."'
He thinks his faith in God made him a better cop, in a subtle
but crucial way.
"You accomplish no good in either policing or ministry if you
try to pound somebody with what you believe. All you can do is
try to live it. What I tried to do, most of the time, was to
he a different kind of police officer: To be extra kind, to be
as diligent as I could to ensure justice was done..."
SCHMIDT's
Sunday sermon commands his attention all week, between
visits to the hospital, seniors' homes and tending parishioners'
needs. He tries to get started on an idea Monday, then fills
in the sermon, drawing on his experiences as a police officer
and in life.
His life as a cop has also affected how he prefers to minister.
He'll step away from the pulpit to stand as an equal with his
parishioners.
One Sunday during a sermon about John the Baptist, he donned
a headdress and an old poncho and walked up the aisles, assuming
the prophet's character.
He's seen lots while working for the city police and so he's
known to "tell it like it is," in church.
"I think it allows me to maintain a different level of reality.
Because there are times when I can say, been there, done that,
got the T-shirt... I haven't been sheltered from much of anything
over the years."
But because he sees through a police officer's eyes, which have
seen so much, he guards against preconceptions when he walks
into each situation.
"I hope I'm as patient as I've ever been. But I may have a different
sense of reality than they would expect me to have," he said,
then added: "As a police officer you also come to learn that
there is so many shades of grey to every situation that you enter
into. Very few are black and white."